Just subscribed. As a low-income 79 Y.O, living in Minnesota's most low-income county, the place where Mother Earth gives birth to the Father of Waters; I'm not at this time able to support your work by a pledge.
That said, your personal renaissance in discovering the depth of Russell Means and the original Aim movement, is most pleasing to me. Back in the mid 70's a friend invited me to attend an AIM happening at the Schermerhorn Ranch on the White Earth Rez. One of the other white guys in attendance was a famous actor who was born in Omaha...a very short dude who starred in "On the Waterfront".
Means' Ojibwa counterpart was Clyde Bellecourt, whose family lives maybe 30 miles from my home. The day after the AIM rally, I followed up on an invitation from Dewey Goodwin, to go horseback riding out at the Shermerhorn. That old ranch is now being used by the Tribe for various civic purposes.
When I was publishing a monthly newspaper which was sold in more than a hundred mom n' pop retail outfits across the Northwoods of Minnesota, a man from the village of White Earth, became my NAG...Native American Guru.
My home on Echo Ridge is located almost exactly halfway between White Earth Rez and the Red Lake Nation. Many personal connexions with people from both places. Perhaps you have heard the common Native term used to describe natives who have completely taken on Whiteman ways: "Apple"...that is red on the outside and white within. It's a spiritual thing, mostly. The Missionary Position messed up a lot of natives...and still haunts them.
Back in the 80's I enjoyed a close relationship with one whose family comes from the village of Ponemah, close to where Lower Red and Upper Red are divided by a peninsula. Those folks, when I attended a powwow there a few years back, include some who still traditionally bury their dead in little houses, right there in the front yards. They are Traditionals. Both of the Treuer brothers, whose mother was from the Leech Lake Rez and father a Jewish refugee from Austria, have written several books about the traditions of their tribal nation. A late friend served them as the copy-editor for those productions.
The Lakota people, specifically the Hunkpapa (Sitting Bull's people) who live in the village of Rosebud on the Rosebud Rez in So.Dak., are very hospital to those "Wasichu" who show respect to them.
In the late 80's, on the way to doing an antiques show in Denver; I pulled into that place on a hot summer day. Kinda sweaty, I drove up to a bunch of boys on bicycles and asked if there was a place to cool off in the water. They escorted me to a large pond, which the people had made by damming up a small stream. Instead of jumping in right away, I sat amongst trees nearby until invited in.
After the water a couple of men, one who was born there but now lives on the Standing Rock Rez in N.D., where the people fought the pipeline. The other was just graduated from the Indian School in Yankton, S.D. I shared some holy smokum (never sold or bought) with them. We talked a bunch and as the day wore on, many people left the area. The guys asked me if I would like to have them guide me to any place in the area.
My request was for us to drive my van up to a high-place where there would be good views. So we drove up this long hill. Their cemetery was to one side of where we parked and shared some more holy smokum. The vision presented itself. Looking up into the sky, two clouds were separated by some blue sky. The sky that was surrounded by those clouds made the perfect form of a flying eagle. From that visualization of a native sense of reality, I was granted then and understood fully only days later, a Lakota name.
Many years ago, I was the last white man who stayed after dark at the powwow at Red Lake. At the center were the drummers and the jingle-dancers. It was full moon on that Fourth of July night, then still the only way that the people could "come out" and drum and dance their traditions.
The dancers were moving counter-clockwise in a circle. Inspiration induced me to dance outside their circle, but clockwise. Wearing my old hippie patch jeans and an old hat I'd found at the Sago township dump a few years previous that had been a target for a shotgun...very holey..my role had become that of "Crazy Man". Accepted.
After awhile I felt motivated to walk over into the parking area overlooking that largest freshwater lake in the south 48. The drumming and dancing emanated a vibration as I looked across the lake, with the moon shining behind me. At that point, the skies became infused with Northern Lights. They too were dancing...in perfect synch with the drumming and the chanting.
Spiritual Magic resonance is well understood by native people who have not lost sight of their traditions. Some have called me as being the opposite of one of those "Apples", being white on the outside while red within.
I walk the Spirit Path, which many tribal nations call the "Red Road".
Means was indeed a seer, a visionary, a prophet. It is my honor to have pre-school niece and nephew who possess some native DNA. That they may survive is a great gifting.
The 20th Century was gifted with a Jewish prophet, Bob Dylan. In one of his songs, a short bit of his channeled lyricism from back in the day, both resonated and reverberated within my being. Don't even remember the exact song, but the singular line remains: "Your spirit and your soul". Soul is our DNA, our heritage as humans. Spirit is that part of us which is eternal, as it is an effusion of Creator...that ineffable beingness which the Ojibwa call "Gitchee Manitou" and the Lakota tongue resonates as "Wakan Tonka"...the Great Mystery.
Love that fox photo as your lead-in. Have you read "Black Elk Speaks"...or Jackson's much more recent biography of the legendary Lakota Medicine Man, simply titled "Black Elk"? Highly recommended.
One of the best articles I've read on Substack or anywhere else.
Excellent!
Just subscribed. As a low-income 79 Y.O, living in Minnesota's most low-income county, the place where Mother Earth gives birth to the Father of Waters; I'm not at this time able to support your work by a pledge.
That said, your personal renaissance in discovering the depth of Russell Means and the original Aim movement, is most pleasing to me. Back in the mid 70's a friend invited me to attend an AIM happening at the Schermerhorn Ranch on the White Earth Rez. One of the other white guys in attendance was a famous actor who was born in Omaha...a very short dude who starred in "On the Waterfront".
Means' Ojibwa counterpart was Clyde Bellecourt, whose family lives maybe 30 miles from my home. The day after the AIM rally, I followed up on an invitation from Dewey Goodwin, to go horseback riding out at the Shermerhorn. That old ranch is now being used by the Tribe for various civic purposes.
When I was publishing a monthly newspaper which was sold in more than a hundred mom n' pop retail outfits across the Northwoods of Minnesota, a man from the village of White Earth, became my NAG...Native American Guru.
My home on Echo Ridge is located almost exactly halfway between White Earth Rez and the Red Lake Nation. Many personal connexions with people from both places. Perhaps you have heard the common Native term used to describe natives who have completely taken on Whiteman ways: "Apple"...that is red on the outside and white within. It's a spiritual thing, mostly. The Missionary Position messed up a lot of natives...and still haunts them.
Back in the 80's I enjoyed a close relationship with one whose family comes from the village of Ponemah, close to where Lower Red and Upper Red are divided by a peninsula. Those folks, when I attended a powwow there a few years back, include some who still traditionally bury their dead in little houses, right there in the front yards. They are Traditionals. Both of the Treuer brothers, whose mother was from the Leech Lake Rez and father a Jewish refugee from Austria, have written several books about the traditions of their tribal nation. A late friend served them as the copy-editor for those productions.
The Lakota people, specifically the Hunkpapa (Sitting Bull's people) who live in the village of Rosebud on the Rosebud Rez in So.Dak., are very hospital to those "Wasichu" who show respect to them.
In the late 80's, on the way to doing an antiques show in Denver; I pulled into that place on a hot summer day. Kinda sweaty, I drove up to a bunch of boys on bicycles and asked if there was a place to cool off in the water. They escorted me to a large pond, which the people had made by damming up a small stream. Instead of jumping in right away, I sat amongst trees nearby until invited in.
After the water a couple of men, one who was born there but now lives on the Standing Rock Rez in N.D., where the people fought the pipeline. The other was just graduated from the Indian School in Yankton, S.D. I shared some holy smokum (never sold or bought) with them. We talked a bunch and as the day wore on, many people left the area. The guys asked me if I would like to have them guide me to any place in the area.
My request was for us to drive my van up to a high-place where there would be good views. So we drove up this long hill. Their cemetery was to one side of where we parked and shared some more holy smokum. The vision presented itself. Looking up into the sky, two clouds were separated by some blue sky. The sky that was surrounded by those clouds made the perfect form of a flying eagle. From that visualization of a native sense of reality, I was granted then and understood fully only days later, a Lakota name.
Many years ago, I was the last white man who stayed after dark at the powwow at Red Lake. At the center were the drummers and the jingle-dancers. It was full moon on that Fourth of July night, then still the only way that the people could "come out" and drum and dance their traditions.
The dancers were moving counter-clockwise in a circle. Inspiration induced me to dance outside their circle, but clockwise. Wearing my old hippie patch jeans and an old hat I'd found at the Sago township dump a few years previous that had been a target for a shotgun...very holey..my role had become that of "Crazy Man". Accepted.
After awhile I felt motivated to walk over into the parking area overlooking that largest freshwater lake in the south 48. The drumming and dancing emanated a vibration as I looked across the lake, with the moon shining behind me. At that point, the skies became infused with Northern Lights. They too were dancing...in perfect synch with the drumming and the chanting.
Spiritual Magic resonance is well understood by native people who have not lost sight of their traditions. Some have called me as being the opposite of one of those "Apples", being white on the outside while red within.
I walk the Spirit Path, which many tribal nations call the "Red Road".
Means was indeed a seer, a visionary, a prophet. It is my honor to have pre-school niece and nephew who possess some native DNA. That they may survive is a great gifting.
The 20th Century was gifted with a Jewish prophet, Bob Dylan. In one of his songs, a short bit of his channeled lyricism from back in the day, both resonated and reverberated within my being. Don't even remember the exact song, but the singular line remains: "Your spirit and your soul". Soul is our DNA, our heritage as humans. Spirit is that part of us which is eternal, as it is an effusion of Creator...that ineffable beingness which the Ojibwa call "Gitchee Manitou" and the Lakota tongue resonates as "Wakan Tonka"...the Great Mystery.
Love that fox photo as your lead-in. Have you read "Black Elk Speaks"...or Jackson's much more recent biography of the legendary Lakota Medicine Man, simply titled "Black Elk"? Highly recommended.
Blessings and Peace. -carstie